


Parting Gift

by MondayVibes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Not Beta Read, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 16:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20361616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MondayVibes/pseuds/MondayVibes
Summary: He fell to his knees beside the headstone, ignoring the sudden coolness as water seeped through the weave of his jeans. His fingers skated over the polished granite while his eyes skated uselessly over the name carved upon it.“H—hey, Mr. Stark—Tony.” He laughed, weak and shaking, and it was torn apart by the rain cascading over them both. “You always were on my case about me making you feel old, so…”---Peter says goodbye to Tony for the last time.





	Parting Gift

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is me, trying to come to grips with Sony and Disneys little lover's quarrel about the Spider-Man IP.

Peter’s knockoff Converse—the only pair of shoes he hadn’t already packed away—squelched as he trudged through the half-flooded lawn, and cool water filled his shoes and socks with each step. When he’d told May that he was heading out one last time, she frowned, tossed him an umbrella, and told him to keep both feet on the ground. The weather forecast had been heralding the arrival of a summer thunder storm for three days now, and it had finally rolled in.

He hadn’t told her just how oddly appropriate the weather seemed, all things considered. Hadn’t said anything at all, just caught the umbrella and headed out.

Marble plaques and carved headstones sprawled out around him, facades dark and shimmering. Fine droplets followed the curves of names and dates and final goodbyes as they traced paths toward the ground. Bouquets crouched before some of the stones, dotting the perfect rows upon rows with garish colour.

His feet cut a left, and his damp fingers tightened around the umbrella. Something heavy and cold—and not at all related to the miserable weather—tightened around his throat like a noose, and he swallowed it down.

In the distance, thunder rumbled.

May would want him home soon.

The heaviness spread to his ribs, wrapped around his lungs and heart, dropped into his stomach. He took a deep, steadying breath and pushed forward. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been here before—Peter’s friends knew they’d find him here on the days he didn’t pick up his phone; New York knew they’d catch sight of Spider-Man here on the nights that ended in blood and sightless eyes—but today was different.

After today, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to come back again.

His feet stopped before a solitary, unremarkable headstone—no bigger or smaller, no more or less impressive, than the rows upon rows upon rows of headstones that surrounded it. There were flowers around it, of course, reds and whites and yellows gaudy against the dull greys of the day, and mounds of soggy paper, once pictures and letters and cards, melted into the grass. It was like this every time he’d come.

He fell to his knees beside it, ignoring the sudden coolness as water seeped through the weave of his jeans. His fingers skated over the polished granite while his eyes skated uselessly over the name carved upon it.

“H—hey, Mr. Stark—Tony.” He laughed, weak and shaking, and it was torn apart by the rain cascading over them both. “You always were on my case about me making you feel old, so…”

He sniffed, scrubbed at his face with a worn sleeve, and listened to the faint sounds of New York—the pattering of droplets, the distant moan and squeal of the subway, the sound of frustrated commuters—while he tried to gather his tattered thoughts.

But then again, Mr. Stark always did tell him to stop beating around the bush and say what was on his mind, so…

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again.” He flinched as his own abruptness. In his mind’s eye, though, a single, questioning eyebrow was raised in his direction, so he pushed on. “We’re moving to California, which is just the weirdest thing ever, but—well, it’s California, right? I won’t have to worry about freezing in the winter and I can apply to CalTech when I finish school. I know you keep talking about MIT, but CalTech’s got _the_ physics program and I know it’d be harder than anything I’ve ever done but, like, it’d be really cool. And we’re not going to be far from LA, so there’ll be pretty of people for Spider-Man to help out, and—I mean, really, it won’t be _that _different from New York. I just… I just won’t be able to stop by and stuff.”

The thunder clapped again, closer this time. His grip tightened on the umbrella, and the cheap plastic handle shattered beneath his fingers.

“Oh—oh _crap_. Damnit.” He glanced back to the tombstone. “I know you’re laughing at me. Stop laughing. It’s not—okay, so it’s a little funny. It’s been so long since I’ve...”

He shook out his hand, made sure to hide the tiny wells of blood rising up. Quickly gathered the plastic shards and stuffed them into a pocket.

“I think… I think, after everything’s that happened, May’s just scared.” His voice was barely more than a whisper now, quiet enough that he wasn’t even sure that the man had heard him. Mr. Stark was gesturing at him to keep going though, and he knew from experience not to test the bounds of the man’s patience. “I mean—we were _gone_, Mr. Stark—we just… stopped existing. And then, with the big fight against Thanos and finding that everything’s changed while we were, well, not here… I think it’s all just too much. It’s not like moving away will actually keep us any safer—nothing could have stopped that from happening—but, at least this way, she’ll feel like she’s trying, you know? And that’s better than nothing.”

His backpack lay heavy against his shoulders.

“I really hope you understand.”

He shrugged it off, unzipped it, pinned the umbrella between his cheek and shoulder so he could reach in with both hands.

“It’s not like I’ll be gone _forever_, either, so we’ll be able to hang out… some time. Eventually. I just—I just don’t know when that’ll be.”

He lifted the cheap plastic Iron Man helmet from within his backpack. It was old and dented and scratched, well-loved from all those years ago when it fit him and dusty from all the years it spent guarding his room from atop a high shelf. Carefully, he set it down amongst the gaudy flowers and the melted paper, then scrubbed at his face again.

It took a few breaths to find his voice, and when he did, it was hoarse and raw. He hoped that Mr. Stark didn’t notice, but a worried frown told him that he most definitely did. “I’m fine. Promise. Cross my heart and all that. I just… You don’t have your suit with you right now, and this is a pretty sad excuse for a substitute, but—it’s for emergencies. You know, just in case something happens and I’m not here to help out. Can you—would you mind? Keeping an eye on Queens for me? I know it’s below your pay grade, but it’s just until I get back.”

He shifted uncomfortably when Mr. Stark fixed him with an almost-amused smirk, telling him without words exactly what the man thought of being asked to fight street gangs and serial robbers. Then, finally, a sigh ruffled through his damp hair and wove through the grass around them—acquiescence—and Peter offered the granite a shaky smile in return.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. It means a lot. I’ll be back before you know it. You probably won’t have to do anything at all.”

Another breath of wind, stronger this time. A few stray droplets of rain splattered against his cheeks. He shifted, and a wave of water flooded his shoes again, and he finally realized just how cold he was.

May was probably gonna get worried if he wasn’t home soon.

“I… I’ve gotta get going.” He told the headstone. “I’m gonna miss you though. So… bye for now, right?”

He got up off his knees, zipped up his backpack, and slid it over a shoulder. His fingers brushed against the cold, lifeless granite.

“Goodbye, Tony,” he whispered. Then he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [Tumblr](https://xcrimsonxblackxbloodx.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
